


Three Time's Charm

by kekinkawaii



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Lifeguard Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekinkawaii/pseuds/kekinkawaii
Summary: Over the course of a single shift, Dean watches a boy try (and fail—multiple times) to overcome the Ten-Meter Tower.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Three Time's Charm

It was 2 in the afternoon on a mid-July day, and Dean was stiff, sweaty, and entirely too tired to yell at the two siblings making running starts before launching themselves into the deep end of the pool. Hell, if he had to pick up another wet, soggy towel or pinch another hairball out of the shower drains, he was going to be right behind them.

The high ground and vantage view the high chair provided him with proved to be little comfort against the endless, mindnumbing hours and the plasticky taste of the whistle. When he’d first taken on the job just a few weeks ago, right after graduating high school, he convinced himself it wouldn’t be _too_ bad.

And he supposed it wasn’t—all of his coworkers were friendly and lax enough with their rules for them to have some after-hours fun involving pool noodles and diving boards in a way that, if their boss walked in on them, they’d most certainly get fired (which was why they also drew straws for whoever was in charge of lookout). It almost made the 5-hour midday shifts worth it.

But on a day like this, it was hard to keep that in mind. Dean had dived into the pool earlier in his shift to help dislodge the swimming trunks of a boy who’d wandered a little too close to the drain at the bottom, and then had to stand there as the mother yelled at _him_ for not noticing it earlier, for not withholding safety regulations, for endangering her little darling boy.

At least the kid had been grateful—he’d darted forward, hugging Dean’s legs (it was the only part he could reach) before swiftly and shyly running out the doors. Dean smiled at the memory.

But that had been nearly two hours ago. Since then, Dean had blew a few whistles, yelled a few choice phrases, and watched idly with decreasing patience and increasing ire as the children splashed and shrieked and swam. The clock on the far side of the wall seemed to tick slower and slower with every passing second.

Dean was just about to cave in and take his break, maybe implore Lisa, the other lifeguard on duty, to take over for a while, when a glimpse of movement overhead caught his eye.

He looked up, and felt a twinge of piqued interest in his chest.

There was a boy standing on the Ten-Meter Tower. He was around Dean’s age, probably—though it was hard to tell from this distance. His dark hair, curiously, was completely dry. He must’ve entered the pool area and headed for the diving board right away, Dean deduced. That would explain why he didn’t notice him until now.

Dean cast a cursory glance around the entirety of the pool. All was well. Satisfied, he turned his full attention back to the boy.

The boy was standing at the top of the diving area, right in front of the ladder. There, he stood. Wavered—his head craned forward with curiosity, jerked back. Shifted his weight back and forth on bare feet.

The Ten-Meter Tower was aptly named; though, Mike had told him on his first day with a little grin, it was more like eleven. That far up, no one could tell the difference of one meter other than that both was really fucking high.

It was a rite of passage for the lifeguards, apparently. Mike had joked that he’d be fired if he didn’t jump at _least_ once. Dean had taken one look at the plank, and told Mike that if that was true, hand him a pen because he was filling out his resignation form right away.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of heights. It was because he was afraid of hitting the water like a sack of flour thrown off a building and onto the cold, hard concrete. Ten fucking meters! _Eleven!_

Over the course of the two or so weeks he’d been working, he’d come close, of course. Hours of constant teasing and egging would do that to a person. Dean had gone about as far as three-quarters up the ladder on the end of the first week, and a few days ago, with the promise of being taken off the shower-cleaning shift, he’d stepped right up onto the platform. And took one look at the dizzying expanse of open space right below his feet, and promptly scrambled off the ladder so quickly his toes stung.

It was that very platform that the boy was standing on right now.

It was, Dean supposed, one of the few highlights of the job. Watching and studying the various collection of people, old and young, male and female, and everything in between, unite with a simple, common objective that was much, much easier said than done: _jump._ The three-meter and five-meter towers were much more popular. For good reason.

But now here he was, and Dean watched with a critical eye as the boy rolled his shoulders back. He could nearly hear, see in the way his chest rose and fell, the internal pep talk. 

The boy stepped forward, inching his toes. One foot after the other, shuffling slightly. He was in the middle of the platform now. Halfway there, buddy, Dean thought.

Abruptly, a shriek pierced the air. Dean’s eyes shot over to the source—a pigtailed girl had slipped. She was already scrambling up, more startled than hurt.

Dean cupped his hands and hollered, “Hey! Kid!”

She looked over, her eyes wide with something that looked like guilt.

“You okay?” Dean continued. She nodded. Dean formed one hand into a thumbs-up and yelled, “Good, be careful next time!” and watched as she dashed away, pink with embarrassment.

With that little incident out of the way, he lowered his hands and cast his eyes back up.

The boy was looking at him.

Dean didn’t even know how he could tell. He was so far up he couldn’t even make out the colour of his eyes nor the expression on his face—but something shot down his spine and he just knew. Feeling caught, Dean hastily averted his eyes onto a particularly-riveting piece of coloured mauve tile. He counted to twenty before carefully, slowly, raising his gaze again.

The boy was gone. 

Dean blinked. He hadn’t heard a splash. A glance to the side confirmed that, the boy’s hands gripping the rungs of the ladder, a quick, steady grasp and release. He was already halfway down. When he reached the ground, he immediately made a beeline towards the exit and disappeared with a flicker of black hair, lightly tousled.

Dean pursed his lips. He had gotten further than Dean had, he’ll give him that.

-+-+-+-

A few hours later, one or two or whatever, it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that it _wasn’t_ the end of his hours just yet, and Dean could feel the boredom eating away at his sanity like a hoard of tiny little ants.

He swung his feet on the chair, feeling his heels thud against the pole.

Lifeguarding wasn’t _boring,_ per se. You never knew what crazy stories were shared these days, and Dean had developed a brick-thick skin for it, too, because on his first day at work Adam had run up to Dean and told him in detail about how he overheard two kids having a “who can pee for the longest time” competition in the hot tub, and nothing Dean could ever overhear from the swimmers since that day would ever surmount that.

Dean let his eyes drift across the expanse of the pool. All clear. There weren’t too many people, today; a plain and average Thursday, where people trailed lazily through the water and chit-chatted aimlessly, letting the hours go by. There was the family of four knocking a beach ball around in the shallow end, a couple sitting too close for Dean’s comfort in the hot tub, and a solo swimmer making laps around the circumference of the pool.

As Dean swept his eyes back across the pool, the automatic doors slid open, catching his attention.

In walked the same boy from earlier that day.

Dean sat up straighter.

The boy looked around, his eyes landing right on Dean’s, where they stayed. His eyes were startlingly blue.

Deer in headlights, Dean froze. Stared back for a solid second until the boy broke it first, lowering his face and turning it away. His hair appeared messier than before, for whatever reason, and there was a bit of a flush on the tips of his ears that Dean could just make out as he walked along the side of the pool, head ducked.

Maybe he was at the tennis courts, or maybe he just had lunch, Dean thought, and wondered why he cared, and tried to ignore that telltale tightening in his ribs as his eyes glanced over the boy’s broad shoulders and smooth, tan skin. Easy, he told himself, and guided his mind away like a dog on a leash.

He told himself it was out of curiosity, a perfectly normal amount of people-watching curiosity, that caused his eyes to follow the boy all the way across the pool, stopping right in front of the ladder.

The boy gripped the first rung and began climbing. Higher and higher still, past the three and past the five, all the way higher until he hoisted himself the last few inches up and stood, ten meters tall. Dean watched, his breath oddly shallow. The boy rolled back his shoulders the same way he’d done before. Stepped forward, slightly faster than before, but still with that tentative trace of self-doubt.

He made it nearly to the edge this time. Dean’s own toes curled, his palms peppering with sweat at the mere memory of being all the way up there, with nothing but the chill of the AC wrapping around your neck.

A moment passed. The boy took another step forward. Then, another, until he was so close to the edge it looked as if a notch higher in the breeze could push him over.

Dean held his breath.

Something went down the boy’s shoulders and through his spine, a shudder; he turned around and walked back to the ladder.

Dean let his breath trickle out in a thin, whistling stream.

-+-+-+-

By the end of Dean’s shift, his ass was so numb he stumbled when his feet finally hit the tiles. The pool still had half an hour to closing, but the number of people had steadily been trickling away until, now, the pool was completely empty, which indicated an early clean-up. Dean would head around the pool and do a routine takedown of the area before performing the daily water checks.

He was halfway through this routine when it was interrupted by the telltale sound of the automatic doors sliding open. Dean turned absentmindedly, expecting Sarah or Mike, but his fingers twitched and he nearly dropped the ball he was holding when he saw the boy walking through the doors.

His head was held high this time and there was a glint in his eye and a set in his jaw that told Dean what he was going to do long before he actually did it, heading towards the Ten-Meter Tower with long, ground-swallowing strides. He didn’t even look at Dean this time, which meant that Dean, without that self-conscious nudge, watched the other shamelessly.

The boy climbed faster this time, muscles moving fluidly. Stepped into the platform. Took two, three, four big, wide steps that led him all the way to the edge, where he stood. And stood.

Dean watched as he stood—and then swayed, just the slightest. His head peered out and down, and a shiver went down his spine. His hands curled into fists and grasped the fabric of his shorts. Dean could almost see the gears turning in his head, the whisper of doubt like a rising wave, stirring provocatively.

Dean watched, chewing on his lip, a crazy, ridiculous, impossible idea forming in his mind.

Before he could think himself out of it, he realized that his feet were already moving across the building, around the pool; his hands curled around the still-warmed rungs of the ladder and he pulled himself up higher, higher, unthinking, wildly, not looking down for the absolute _life_ of him until he found himself all the way at the top. The boy hadn’t noticed him yet, too caught up in the tsunami of his own thoughts.

“It’s easier if you close your eyes,” Dean suggested.

The boy whipped around, stumbling and nearly slipping—a sharp gasp before he regained his balance and took multiple fast, consecutive steps away from the edge, which gave the additional feature of approaching closer to Dean. He’d never seen him this up close, Dean realized suddenly, and now that he had, he could tell that the boy was near his age, possibly older, and his eyes were a staggering dark, pure blue, and his jaw was strong and sure and his lips were—his lips were moving.

“Sorry,” he was saying. “What did you say?”

“Uh,” Dean said dumbly, and cleared his throat. “I said it’s easier if you close your eyes. So you can’t see how far you’re falling.” He winced. Probably could’ve worded that better.

“Oh,” the boy said. “Thanks. You’ve done this before, then?”

Dean had a wild, fleeting idea of lying before knocking that down. “No, actually.” He offered the boy a sheepish smile. “I’ve just, y’know. Heard. And seen. I’m a lifeguard—Dean.”

“Castiel,” the boy said. “So you haven’t done this before?”

“Nope.”

Castiel tilted his head to one side, curious eyes peering at him. “Then why are you up here?”

“I, uh,” Dean said, and searched fruitlessly for a euphemism for _I thought you were really fucking cute._ “I wanted to help you out. Provide some moral support.”

“I see,” Castiel said slowly, not taking his eyes off of Dean. Jesus, they were like x-rays. “So I should close my eyes?”

“So I’ve heard,” Dean said. “And don’t second-guess yourself.”

Castiel nodded. “Anything else?”

Dean wracked his mind. “Keep your arms relaxed. Remember to hold your breath, but not too early. Once you do it, it’s a lot easier than it originally seemed. It’s mostly the mental barrier; you just need to go for it.”

“Okay,” Castiel said. He took a deep breath, and started to walk towards the edge once again.

Once he reached it, he called out, “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here for a second?”

Dean moved on instinct, and by the time he realized that he was a singular misstep away from falling through the air, it was too late to move back. “What is it?” he said through a tightly-clenched jaw.

Castiel turned to look at Dean, and Dean’s breath caught for a different reason. But before he could reel that thought back, Castiel said, “I want you to jump with me,” and that immediately dashed all other thoughts out of his mind.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dean said.

“Moral support,” Castiel said, “like you said.”

“I can give moral support from all the way up here, thanks very much.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, somehow injecting a cartel’s worth of argument in the single syllable. 

“How did we just switch places?” Dean wondered aloud.

Castiel just smiled. “Arms relaxed,” he recited. “Hold your breath, but not too early.” His voice became softer. “I know you can do it. If I can, you can.”

(Castiel couldn’t back out _now._ He had been trying to do this all day, his heart set on it ever since he’d caught sight of the towering platform so high up it nearly grazed the ceiling. He had nearly gotten to the edge that very first time, but his concentration had been dashed by a shout, and he had looked over to see all the million definitions of hot blond lifeguard all condensed into one, and his nerves had frayed and sparked into ashes. The second time, he’d gotten close—so close—but though he wouldn’t let himself look this time, refused to give into that steady magnetic pull, he could still feel those eyes on him, and his knees lost their constitution. And now he was right next to him, and his name was Dean, and Castiel still didn’t know what he was doing or why he had asked, _told,_ Dean to come over here right next to him, teetering on the edge, both of them, other than the sole reason that he wanted to feel his body heat next to him when he jumped.)

“It’s mostly the mental barrier,” Dean offered, when Castiel appeared to hesitate, eyes going unfocused with thought.

Castiel blinked, then gave Dean a curt look. “I was giving you time to pull yourself together.”

Dean’s mouth nearly dropped open—and then he bubbled out a laugh. “Sure you were,” he said. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s okay to be scared.”

“You’re the one who’s the lifeguard and still hasn’t jumped.”

“You’re the one who’s been coming up here all day.”

“I’ll jump if you jump.”

“You’re on.”

Egos stoked and prides rekindled, they both made the mistake of looking back down.

Dean inhaled sharply and took a step back. Goddamnit, why hadn’t he just asked for his number in the locker room or something?

“On three?” he said, weakly.

Castiel murmured, “I think this is a stellar example of something my mother used to tell me about peer pressure and bad influences.”

And despite the torrents of fear, Dean grinned helplessly back.

In a solemn tone, Castiel began to count down.

Dean closed his eyes so tightly starbursts of colour embedded themselves across his vision, and jumped.

Next to him, he could hear Castiel—a gasp, a shout, a breathless laugh. Dean hit the water first, feeling the shock of cold clawing right into his bones, a stinging sensation spiderwebbing across his skin. Castiel barrelled in a split second after.

He opened his eyes and saw strings of bubbles streak across his vision. He kicked, and resurfaced with a whooping laugh so loudly it reverberated across the entire room.

He tossed his head back, shaking the water from his eyes, and turned to see Castiel right next to him, treading water, eyes so bright they were shining.

“Cas,” Dean said, the word coming out in a whoosh of breath. “That was—”

“Mostly the mental barrier indeed,” Castiel finished.

“We are _so_ doing that again,” Dean said.

Castiel said, “Don’t you have more to do before your shift ends?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Dean said. He had totally forgotten. “Fuck.”

“Rain check?” Castiel said softly. There was a flicker of something hopeful in his eyes.

“Absolutely,” Dean said, snatching it up.

“Great.”

“Awesome.”

Castiel smiled, then tilted his head back (Dean swallowed, hard, at the trails of water rolling down his neck at the movement) to gaze up at the diving board. “We did pretty well on our first attempt, I think,” he said casually.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said, following Castiel’s gaze up to the view. It was still as tall and towering as he’d remembered it, but it had finally lost its edge of superior insurmountability. Just _wait_ until he told the other lifeguards. Mike could suck it.

“Ten out of ten,” Castiel responded.

“Nah,” Dean said, something warm and pulsing expanding inside his chest, pressing against his ribs. “Eleven.”

They raced each other all the way to the end of the pool.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this YouTube video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QMlIjSnt_E).
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!! Kudos and comments fuel my happiness. Cheers <3


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